Language is a tool, not a temple of truth. Thought is like language, so elusive that its bulwark crumbles as you dilute words in a creative broth. In the depth of our imaginary skills lies an abyss of joy. It is waiting for your explosive soul to dream its strongest by expanding language into endless coils of love. If language is a tool, is thought a reason or a result? As I desire, I limit myself to thought. As I think, I limit myself to what is defined as me. As I speak, I limit myself to words. As I touch, I limit myself to perception. As I perceive, I limit myself to what is outside of me. As I imagine, I limit myself to my ability to create. In thought and perception, lies objectivity, so where does creativity sleep? In my bedroom, you might say, so where do you sleep? In my bed, you might say, so where is your sleep? In my mind, you might say, so where are you? In my sleep, you might say, so who is sleeping? Me, you might say, so who are you? If you can't answer, but with only another "me", ask: Why can't an eye confess what it sees unless it observes its naked state as it sleeps? Are you awake or unknowingly dreaming? Keep it your way. Sit in objectivity. Build your facts. Stand over subjectivity. Transcend both. Dream on. Better yet, dream up... Has the bulwark gone home? Where is home? It is where the temple of truth dwells, within, reaching out... toward being authentic.